


Bad Moon Rising

by Sir_Bedevere



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 03:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3595215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Bedevere/pseuds/Sir_Bedevere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I see a bad moon rising, I see trouble on the way…”</p>
<p>It had been his father’s favourite song, the one he always sang when he was happiest, and more and more these days, Davos found himself doing the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Moon Rising

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vana/gifts).



> Vana vaguely mentioned something on Tumblr about Davos being the one who sings in the shower. She also said she wanted someone to write it. Basically, this is it.

He’d scalded himself with the damn shower but on that morning, Davos found that he didn’t mind that much. 

He’d brought nothing with him the night before, intending to head home after the game as he usually did. Since he’d introduced Stannis to baseball the year before, game night had become a regular occurrence, one that Davos had come to treasure. Stannis loved the math of the sport, the statistics and the percentages and the probabilities. Davos loved the game itself, the excitement and the beer and the time with his best friend. 

Davos loved Stannis.

He had for a while, no plans to do anything about it of course. But then last night had happened and well…now he was here in Stannis’ ridiculous shower at 7am on a Sunday and wasn’t life sometimes the funniest thing? He sure as hell wasn’t sure he believed it. 

He amused himself for a minute or two with opening all the bottles in the shower and smelling them. The bottle of lemon shower gel could only belong to Stannis, the scent of the gel now intimately familiar to him. The assortment of unlabelled and homemade herbal shampoos must have been Melisandre’s, Stannis’ wacky friend and sometime roommate, on the odd occasion she was in town. Then there was the ‘No More Tears’ cherry scented shampoo, half-used, that must have been Shireen’s, for when she came to visit. Davos wondered if it was too soon to imagine moving his mint and tea tree collection into the cubicle.

Probably too soon.

Chuckling, he stepped back under the water and began to sing under his breath. 

“I see a bad moon rising, I see trouble on the way…”

It had been his father’s favourite song, the one he always sang when he was happiest, and more and more these days, Davos found himself doing the same.

“I see earthquakes and lightning…”

There was a knock on the door, quiet but insistent. 

“Come in.”

The door clicked open and Davos peered around the curtain. Stannis wasn’t smiling.

“You were singing,” he said by way of greeting.

“I was,” Davos grinned, “Feeling quite a bit like singing this morning.”

“It’s 7am,” Stannis said incredulously, “On a Sunday.”

“Did I wake you?” Davos asked, feeling a little exposed under Stannis’ penetrating gaze. He always did have the power to unnerve him.

“You did, but that’s not the point. You might wake the Greyjoys.”

“The Greyjoys? What the hell have the Greyjoys got to do with it?”

“Balon Greyjoy is just looking for something to hold over me so I can’t force him to cut that damn tree down in his garden. Noise pollution is just the kind of thing he is hoping for.”

“Noise pollution?” Davos smirked, “I didn’t think my voice was that bad.”

Stannis didn’t laugh.

“I’ll stop,” Davos promised, “Can I finish up in here now?”

Stannis had put the coffee on by the time Davos emerged, towel wrapped around his waist and water glistening in his beard. He dared to drop a kiss on Stannis’ cheek before he sat down opposite him. Stannis blushed a little. That was a good sign. 

“What song were you singing?” Stannis asked, pouring Davos a coffee, “I don’t think I know it.”

“You don’t know Bad Moon Rising? Creedence Clearwater Revival?”

“No, I don’t. Is it famous?”

“Famous?” Davos had to keep from spitting his coffee back into his mug, “April, 1969. The best song to never make number one.”

“I see,” Stannis sipped his drink carefully and grimaced, adding more milk when he put it down, “You’re wrong, of course.”

“Wrong?”

“Penny Lane is the best song to never make number one. Everyone knows that.”

 

A small smile tugged at the corners of Stannis’ mouth as he surveyed Davos’ reaction. Davos imagined he looked like some sort of cartoon character, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Just when you thought you knew someone.

“I didn’t know you were a Beatles fan.”

“My father was. You learn by osmosis, when you’re young.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Davos said cheerfully, pulling himself to his feet “But my dad was into Creedence before I ever was. Must be a dad thing, brainwashing. Anyway, I’m going to put some pants on. Why don’t you tell me more about your old man, when I get back? You don’t talk about him enough.”

“I will,” Stannis murmured, “You’d have liked him, Davos. He would have liked you. Even though you don’t agree on the Beatles.”

 

“I’d have changed his mind,” Davos called from the bedroom door, “And I’ll change yours. Just give me time.”

Stannis’ answer made him laugh, delivered dry as sandpaper in the desert.

“I look forwards to it.”


End file.
